Nunzio nodded once. He was a man of relatively few words; once he knew he’d convinced me he didn’t waste any more of them. He slid into a crevice, vanishing among the shadows. Pretty good disappearing act for someone with no magik. I gave Fireball a kick to get him started again. He didn’t need it. Just as Nunzio disappeared, the knot of dragons caught up with me. Fireball whinnied and took off, me clinging to his neck. We bounded down the canyon with the yelps of thirty couples of drakes, wyverns, wurms, firebreathers, and Gleep behind us.
While Fireball ran I had time to think. I needed to figure out a way to distract Massha and the other judges at the time of the stickup. I glanced up as the airborne quintet zoomed overhead. I owed it to her to tell her the truth, but there wasn’t any time. The day was rushing by.
I had to get out of the way of the dragons. With the help of the tracker I located the next handy pocket canyon, and yanked Fireball aside as we reached it. The horde thundered past me with the hunters in their wake. Now that I knew none of the others were involved I could stop babysitting them. As he rode by, Prince Bosheer tipped me a merry wave and a salute. I grimaced back. Whelves wrote the book on cheerfulness. I could only take them in small doses.
Now, to locate the king.
I quivered with joy as we flew along above the hunters. We were in the ride to the finish. Over the top of the trees the castle came back into sight. Glory was going to make it!
Down below I saw Aahz rejoin the pack. He gestured furiously at the Samiram, and made a throat-cutting gesture with his finger. That must be our man. I thought he was too scaly to live. I was going to keep an eye on him. Mr. Wrong was never going to have a chance to blow the contest. I tipped a thumbs-up to Aahz, but he was already zipping back into the woods.
Glory was on her way. She was in the zone now, running hard, her cheeks bright pink. She stumbled, and the dragons let out a howl of delight as they gained a few steps on their prey. With the castle so close she couldn’t afford to make any detours, or the hunters would cut her off. She was still on top of her game, with lots of energy left. I was so proud of her.
Little Gleep turned out to be amazingly fast for his size. He zoomed out ahead of the pack until he was running side by side with Glory. She reached out and patted him on the head, earning a wide-eyed look of adoration. That dragon was just a love sponge. The big green dragon in the lead, shoving out into the open field, took a few steps and launched himself into the air, gaining on Glory. He set down within a few paces of her. Gleep wheeled on his little blue tail and hissed. The big dragon was so surprised it sat back on its tail, causing a huge pileup as the other dragons caught up with it.
I grinned. The little guy was amazing. Skeeve ought to be proud of him. Later I planned to tell him all about Gleep’s adventures, with some judicious editing. It bothered him to hear too much about Aahz. He still felt guilty for Hot Stuff being without his magik, as if it was his fault that the moronic Imp assassins hit Skeeve’s old master before he restored Aahz’s powers. Skeeve also blamed himself for not catching and understanding all the words of the antimagik spell; the counterspell had to be exact, or it would make matters worse. Aahz would never get his powers back, and he might have some other problem. Skeeve wanted to make sure that would never happen.
Glory was in the straightaway now, with the drawbridge directly ahead of her. Out in the open for good, she wove from side to side. Now and then she threw a handful of brimstone out wide. The dragons on her tail couldn’t resist the noxious little pellets, diving for them and crunching them up with gusto. They got in each others’ way, squabbled over the titbits, and, suddenly, fell into pits that Glory had dug days before to delay them. She wasn’t going to get caught, not if she could help it.
The ’hippuses started falling over dragon tails and flipping into the pits, too. From twenty, only fourteen hunters still remained in the chase. Ooops, ouch. I winced. Make that eleven, as three of them stumbled into a net that dropped out of the trees. Glory had leaped over the tripwire as she passed, but the ’hippuses had gone right through it, setting off the trap.
A shower of love-doe powder claimed four more, as the hunters suddenly had to fend off the advances of a herd of amorous deer-elk stags who bounded out of the woods, looking for the wonderful females they smelled. The number dropped again, as two riders were suddenly thrown out of their saddle ridges and onto the ground ahead of their ’hippuses. Their mounts, unable to move, bellowed for help. The remaining five leaped over the sward of stickum turf and pounded forward after the remaining dragons. The furry, skinny-butt female shrieked as she and another rider were lifted straight out of their saddles by huge birds of prey. They would be able to fight their way free, but they were effectively out of the contest for the time being. Glory had left all these surprises for last. That’s my girl, I thought with pride.
Behind Gloriannamarjolie, only three hunters remained: the Samiram, the Deveel called Alf, and Prince Bosheer. They were all looking desperate, grim, and tired. I crossed my fingers. Glory didn’t have far to run. She was going to win.
The woods thickened ahead of me. Fireball protested as I led him off the main path, making him pick his way through the undergrowth. I didn’t want to interrupt the exchange, but I wanted to make sure no one else interrupted it, either. The king and his litter clanked along. Navigating behind him by sound, I paid attention to the rhythmic jingling, creaking, clattering, and clop-clop-clopping. Suddenly, the noise came to a halt.
“Have you got the chest?” a female voice demanded. The representative from COW was a woman. They occupied about half the council seats. The current president was a Gnome named Helvita.
“Of course!” the king’s deep voice rolled out. I pulled Fireball to a silent halt. I slid out of the saddle and tiptoed forward, trying to see the exchange. Henryarthurjon and his challenger were in a stand of woods too deep to let in much light. Perfect place for a little daylight robbery, I thought. I saw the silhouette nod.
“Hand it over, then. Hurry up! We haven’t got much time.”
“Patience, patience, good dame,” the king said. More clinking and clunking as he untied the bindings holding the chest in place on its litter. “My goodness, you’re a strong little thing, aren’t you? Oh, I say! Take it easy, wench!”
“Shut up,” the figure hissed. “We have to make this look good. Hold still!”
“Ah, I see. Mmm. Mmmph!”
All was going according to the plan. I gave the COW representative a few minutes to finish her work and leave with the chest. A short implosion of air told me she’d used a D-hopper to depart. I shoved through the trees. King Henryarthurjon stood tied up like a bundle of sticks inside a circle of his own spears stuck point down in the ground, his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. I loosened the gag.
“Yell,” I said. “I’ll get help.”
“Aid! Aid to the king!” bellowed Henryarthurjon. “What ho! Aid to the king!”
“Aid for the king!” I shouted. I ran to Fireball and spurred him down the hill and into the midst of the hunt. “Help the king! He’s up there! He needs help!”
“The king? What happened to the king!” Everyone not directly in the running went to the rescue, including most of the disappointed hunters. I was feeling kind of smug, being in on the facts. I tipped the king a wink as we untied him and helped him back onto his stallion.
“That was a little bit of a too-convincing robbery, what ho?” he told me in an undertone. “You could have reminded your compatriot it was all a sham, eh?”
“My compatriot?” I asked. I admit my expression went blank.
“Yes, a scaly wench, a little taller than you, but otherwise could have been your sister. Do you have a sister?”
“Not in this neck of the woods,” I said. I kept my face impassive, but my heart sank.
A Pervect. The image in my mind slid over one notch and clicked down. That’s where I had seen a silhouette like it: in my own mirror every morning. I gritted my teeth. I
f the COW rep from Perv was here, the least she could have done was to tip me the wink.
“Nothing to do with me, majesty,” I assured him sincerely, though inwardly I was smarting with humiliation. I was still in disgrace at home for having lost my magik—not because it had happened, but because it had been in such a stupid accident. The Pervect representative probably didn’t want anything to do with me. “I’m here with Massha.”
“Eh?” the king asked, puzzled. “Oh. Her governess. Ah. ’Course y’are. Welcome, too. Welcome. Ah, well, let’s go back to the castle. Glory ought to be getting there pretty soon. C’mon, we’re all of ten minutes’ ride away.”
A few steps away we heard, “Mmrrph! Mllph! Lllp!”
“I say,” the king exclaimed. “Do you hear something?”
But with my more acute hearing I was way ahead of him. The sounds were coming from a copse of nut bushes not far away. I swung off Fireball and pushed into the undergrowth toward the sound. I noticed that the twigs were broken off during some kind of struggle.
Behind a tree I found a mousy little Djinn in blue robes with his wire-rimmed glasses hanging from one pointed blue ear. He was bound and gagged with snare-ropes, magikal bindings that never let go unless you knew the release word. Fortunately, they’re commercially available in nearly every dimension, and few people ever bother to reset the factory passwords.
“Undo,” I commanded. The ropes collapsed from him like overcooked pasta.
“You!” the Djinn said, leveling a finger at me. I noticed it was shaking. It took guts for a little Djinn like that to threaten a Pervect. We had a reputation throughout the dimensions, and it was well-earned. “How dare you restrain a representative of the most august Council of Wizards . . . wait a moment, you’re not the one who tied me up!”
“No. It was a female, right?” I asked, helping him out of the bushes.
He adjusted his spectacles and peered up at me, wonderingly. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Ask the king,” I said, hoisting him up into the now-empty litter. “His royal majesty, King Henryarthurjon of Brakespear.”
“Temolo, of the Council of Wizards,” the Djinn said, extending a hand, which was swallowed up by the king’s huge paw. He straightened his spectacles. “Dear me, there seems to have been a terrible mistake.”
The three remaining riders were in a line directly behind Glory. We five judges flew directly over them, making sure that no funny stuff would happen in the last few minutes of the race. For the first time, I saw Glory slow down slightly. In spite of her excellent condition, she was getting tired. She’d been running all day, a hard feat even for a Brakespearan.
The hunters were alone. The last three big dragons had been clotheslined by an almost invisible wire stretched from the top of one huge, ancient oak on one side of the castle to another. The trees bowed slightly as three adult dragons rammed into the wire, then sprang up taut. The dragons were flung backward, and lay in a heap wondering what had happened to them. Gleep sat down on the ground in front of him to chew mud out of his nails. Nunzio emerged from the crowd of trainers and courtiers to help groom him. His work was done.
But mine wasn’t yet. Glory hadn’t reached the drawbridge. She was panting with exhaustion. The ’hippuses drew closer, and closer, and closer. The Samiram reached out one long, scaly hand, almost grabbing hold of the running girl’s long tail of blond hair.
Suddenly, I lost my grip on the Samiram’s dragon-control device that I was holding. It fell out of my hands and landed on his head. He bellowed a curse. The ’hippus between his knees, sensing a change, slowed a little. The Samiram looked up at me, his tongue flicking furiously.
“Oops,” I said, holding my hands up to my shoulders. “Sorry.”
Glory and the other two were by now far ahead. A hundred yards. Eighty. Sixty. The castle courtiers were lined up on the battlements yelling encouragement to their princess. Forty. Twenty. She was going to make it. I was afraid to breathe.
Suddenly, Alf, the Deveel, threw a handful of powder into Bosheer’s face.
“Ten points off!” Carisweather boomed. And, mysteriously (my fingers were crossed), the cloud of dust rolled back into Alf ’s face, never touching the Prince. Alf went into a coughing and sneezing fit, and fell off his ’hippus.
Ten yards to go. Five. Two. One. Glory’s foot was almost on the planks of the drawbridge, when Bosheer’s strong arm scooped her up and deposited her onto the withers of his steed.
“Got you, my lady!” he yelled.
The cheers of the courtiers faded away. Glory looked upset for a moment. Then she looked up into the face of her captor, and grinned.
“Congratulations, my lord,” she breathed. The two of them exchanged glances that left the princess’s cheeks even more pink than before. Bosheer’s face turned red, and he smiled. Zing! I thought. The cheers redoubled.
We judges wheeled around the couple on the drawbridge, compared notes, then Carisweather floated a dozen yards up into the air to make an announcement.
“My lords and ladies! I have the honor to announce the winner of today’s hunt: Prince Bosheer! And here comes his majesty to award him his most desirable prize!”
Over the last rise came the king, followed by Aahz, followed by the ’hippuses carrying the litter with the chest on it. I blinked. The chest was not on it. Instead, it contained a bemused-looking Djinn, and nothing else. Aahz’s face was grim. His eyes met mine. The chest had been stolen. In spite of all our precautions, we’d failed.
The king rode over, and though she didn’t look in any hurry to get down, helped his daughter dismount from Bosheer’s saddle. The king shook hands with the prince, then held up his hands for silence.
“We wish to give thanks to our servants and friends, and especially to our new friend Aahz, who came to our assistance a few moments ago,” he said, indicating me with a hand. “I’m sorry to say that the prize we’d originally intended to grant this most gracious winner has been foully robbed from our person.” Bosheer looked crestfallen. Henryarthurjon slapped him on the back. “We apologize most heartily to Prince Bosheer. It would seem that crime may touch even the highest in the land. But this brave and puissant man will not go without a reward. Instead, I shall give him from among my many treasures . . .”
Gloriannamarjolie pushed forward, her hand hooked through Bosheer’s arm. “. . . his daughter’s hand in marriage!”
“What?” asked her father, then noticed the solid grip Glory had on the Whelf. “Oh. Jolly good. Yes. My daughter’s hand in marriage.”
The crowd cheered. Glory and Bosheer looked radiantly happy.
Massha settled down near me where I stood at the edge of the crowd with my arms crossed. “Well, all’s well that ends well, I guess. I saw sparks shooting between those two even before the race started. I knew he was Mr. Right.”
“He’s satisfied,” I said, nodding at the prince. “He got something he liked better than a safe.”
“But what happened to the safe?” she asked. “You were following the king. How’d someone manage to rob him with you so close?” I scowled. No one likes to fail, even if it was in a good cause. Her face softened. She felt sorry for me.
“I didn’t see a thing,” I said, impassively. “It had to have happened when he went into that thick clump of woods on the other side of the hill.”
“Well, did you notice any footprints? Can you tell which way the thieves went?” she demanded.
“Massha,” I said, with infinite patience. “I came here to do you a favor. I blew it. I apologize. You deserve better, but I’m done. No one is paying me to track down a missing treasure chest.”
“Sorry, Big Guy,” Massha said. “I’m actually happier the way things came out.”
“Me, too,” I agreed. Nunzio and Gleep came up to join us. He and I exchanged comradely nods. Gleep leaped up, aiming for my face with his tongue. I pushed him away. “Let’s go in. I bet they’re pouring a toast to the happy couple. I could use a drink.”
> “So could I, Hot Stuff,” Massha said, tucking her hand into my arm. “So could I.”
M.Y.T.H. INC. PROCEEDS
By Jody Lynn Nye
The Klahd with the pinstriped suit coat stretched tight over his massive shoulders accepted the cup of tea offered to him by Bunny. Guido declined cream or sugar, as his habit, which I knew well, dictated. His cousin, Nunzio, not quite so muscular but more affable, accepted both. The fact that both were of a mind to take tea in the sitting room of our renovated inn when they were clearly rushed by other concerns told me how deep those concerns were. I settled myself at their feet to eavesdrop openly upon the proceedings.
“Much obliged,” Guido said, taking a deep draught—less, I believed, to assuage thirst than to get the courtesies out of the way. He was never one for a cup of tea where coffee or ale were also on the menu, and he knew both were to hand. Bunny, who knew his mores, seemed to be using his acceptance of the ritual as a test to find out how desperate the Mob enforcers were to obtain the help of my pet. Bunny was nearly as protective as I of Skeeve’s studies. The ruffled white pinafore that the red-haired female wore over her tight, green dress was a concession to her attempt to play hostess as well as guardian, but it did not conceal her voluptuous figure any more successfully than her mannered hospitality hid her annoyance and worry. Guido turned to the lanky, blond-haired male reclining in the chair to his right.
“Like I was sayin’, Skeeve . . .”
“Cookie?” Bunny asked, handing around a plate of tiny, pink-sugared dainties. Guido obediently reached for one.
In my long study of the lesser species, the ability to juggle a container of hot liquid, a plate of delicate comestibles, and a difficult conversation was the mark of a being with its wits about it. Guido passed the test. Nunzio went him one better. When the plate came to him, he selected two of the sweet biscuits, one for himself, and one that he held out on his palm for me. In deference to my pet’s affection for this creature, as well as my taste for the sweets, I scooped the cookie off the hand with my tongue. Nunzio reached out to ruffle my ears.
Myth-Told Tales Page 14